


A Little Tease

by parisian_girl



Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-12
Updated: 2018-08-12
Packaged: 2019-06-26 08:24:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15659439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/parisian_girl/pseuds/parisian_girl
Summary: "And how far do you want this particular game to go, Miss Fisher?”She paused.“A dangerous question, Inspector.”“With an equally dangerous answer?”A (very) late August flashfic challenge entry.





	A Little Tease

**Author's Note:**

> My very late entry to heat 4 of the August flashfic challenge, inspired by the first pic in the set -(https://78.media.tumblr.com/2e7fe4fbbc0178ce6621b07cc4ea652e/tumblr_inline_pd9khyerm11tgisoy_540.gif). My excuse is I was working all day yesterday, then by yesterday evening was too tired to do anything except drink wine and collapse into bed. I also blame my tiredness for the way this fic turned out... but I did stick to the 2 hour time limit!
> 
> Enjoy:).

The meal had barely started, and already Phryne was excruciatingly bored.

She had known how awful it would be, but somehow had not been able to say no. Aunt Prudence in full flow, and brimming with enthusiasm and determination, was an almighty force to be reckoned with and Phryne knew better than to even try. Just refusing to come was not an option; she would never have heard the end of it. She had thought about feigning a headache or an upset stomach, but Aunt P would have seen right through her and besides, she hadn’t wanted to tempt fate. She had even thought about committing murder just so that she could legitimately claim she had to work, but she doubted even that would have been a good enough excuse and she hadn’t wanted to end up in jail either. And so she had gritted her teeth, accepted the invitation-cum-command, and done the only thing she could think of to make the evening bearable.

She had invited Jack.

She honestly hadn’t thought that he would accept. She knew that, whilst she would find the evening a drag, it would actually be his idea of hell, and she hadn’t been at all convinced that their relationship extended that far. Long post-case discussions in his office or her parlour were de rigueur. Nightcaps and the occasional dinner fitted in nicely. But a charity dinner and dance hosted by her Aunt Prudence, to which “the whole of Melbourne society, Phryne!” was invited was another thing altogether, and she had fully expected him to politely decline, probably using one of the excuses that she herself had thought of and dismissed.

Instead, he had given her a long, appraising look that slowly melted into that half-smile of his, and had nodded before telling her to close her mouth, dropped open in surprise, and to not worry because he honestly did scrub up ok when he had to.

Now, she looked at him out of the corner of her eye as asparagus was delicately ladled onto her plate. She had surreptitiously switched the place cards so that she would be able to sit next to him, because the idea of a whole two hours or more with Guy on one side and Isabella on the other was almost too much to bear, and she took advantage of the distractions of dinner to fully take him in without too much interruption. He had obviously made an effort and, in her humble opinion, scrubbed up more than okay. Perfectly-fitted tuxedo, crisp white shirt, polished shoes, a deep-blue bow tie that brought out the colour of his eyes and that went beautifully with her duck-egg silk organza dress, and that slightly spicy, earthy scent that was pomade and aftershave and Jack. She had delighted in having him on her arm as they made the rounds during drinks. The enquiring looks and whispered asides had almost made the stultifying small talk worth it, and she hadn’t corrected Guy’s hearty “Well _done_ , old thing, I never thought you’d actually get him beyond the parlour”. She told herself that she hadn’t had a chance before Aunt P had whisked her off to the next person she simply _had_ to meet, Jack obediently in tow, but now she had to admit that the idea of Jack beyond her parlour was infinitely appealing. And he hadn’t corrected Guy either. Neither had he tried to hide his appreciation of the way she looked tonight. She had felt his eyes on her in all the right places, lingering where the dress lingered on her skin, brushing over her glossy hair with the simple cream feather, only dragged away to briefly join in whatever conversation required his input, and the light touch of his hand on her bare arm had felt hot and charged.

She had convinced herself that he had agreed to come with her tonight as a favour to a friend. She had also convinced herself that she had invited him as such, and that the thoughts of him that had occupied her mind as she dressed - whether he would notice the subtle shimmer of the material, whether the slit up the side was too much, whether she should go for something backless instead so that if he placed his hand there to escort her into dinner it would find bare skin - were simply the product of the little afternoon whiskey she had indulged in to help her through the evening. But now…now she wasn’t so sure on either count, and with the conversation on her left turning to the topic of import taxes on tobacco, she wondered whether now might be a good time to find out.

She lifted a spear of asparagus to her mouth, deliberately taking her time in biting, chewing, swallowing. Despite his enforced, one-sided conversation with the man opposite, who was holding forth about the state of the Victoria justice system and what should be done about it, she could tell that he noticed. And so she did it again. And again. And again, until she was finally rewarded with a small, sharp intake of breath that only she would have noticed, a warning light in those blue eyes that told her she was pushing her luck at the dinner table, and a tiny smirk that said he could give as good as he got, and did she really want to play that game?

 _Oh yes_. She deliberately popped the last mouthful of asparagus onto her tongue and licked her fingers, not entirely managing to hide her surprise and delight at this development, and a slow smile spread further across her face as his eyes dropped to her lips before turning back to…Harry? Was that his name? She couldn’t remember and didn’t really care. She watched as he slowly ate his way through his own plate, his obvious enjoyment of the food undiminished by the circumstances, and she felt a sudden jolt of tenderness and gratitude alongside a growing heat in her belly that had nothing to do with asparagus. _Damn the man_. Somehow, she knew that this game wasn’t going to go all her own way, and somehow she didn’t really care about that either. But she could at least make a good head start, and discreetly, she reached down and rested her hand lightly on his thigh.

_Good God, he has some muscles._

She expected a reaction. The Jack Robinson she thought she knew would have probably choked on the last spear of asparagus. She had at least hoped for a widening of those blue eyes, a subtle warning cough, or a tell-tale blush. Instead, without missing a beat of his asparagus or Harry’s diatribe against the length of prison sentences for drugs offences, his fingers closed over her own, his thumb stroking hers and his forefinger running up her wrist to her thick silver bangle, before picking up her hand and carefully - because of course Jack’s always careful - placing it on her own leg and lifting his hand back to….

_Dammit, the man’s licking his fingers._

His smile, outwardly directed at Harry but which she knew was really meant for her, held a hint of smugness and more than a hint of challenge, and she waited until their plates were cleared and Harry was distracted by the beef before she leaned over, her lips tantalisingly close to his ear.

“I hope you’re taking note, Inspector. Harry will expect to have the entire criminal justice system overhauled by this time next month.”

“Absolutely.” His voice betrayed nothing and he took a mouthful of his wine, leaning away from her to allow himself to be served with spoonfuls of steaming vegetables. “I agree with him, actually. He makes some interesting points.”

“Are you…?” Her spluttered question tailed off as she caught the sparkle in his eyes. “Serious?”

“I am a serious man, Miss Fisher.”

“Really?” This time it was her foot that slipped out of her heel and found its way to his calf, soft stockings teasing the hem of his trousers, and she smiled innocently as his eyes flashed in warning again. “I was under the impression that you’re also very good at playing games”.

“Whatever made you think that?” He turned slightly to face her, all pretence at sociable conversation now abandoned and the heat in his gaze unmistakeable, his voice a soft rumble, as her toes found the top of his socks and the bare skin of his leg. “I distinctly remember you starting this round. You did invite me, after all.”

“Perhaps”, Phryne acknowledged with a sip of wine and a smirk of her own. “But I would say the score is currently even.”

“And how far do you want this particular game to go, Miss Fisher?”

She paused. His eyes held hers, blue and green dancing like the waves of the ocean, and she was reminded of other games, other questions hidden under lighthearted banter, other moments like this that they had let slip by. Her foot stilled its exploration, and she took a sip of her wine, stalling. True. She had started this game, long before this evening. Which way did she want it to end?

“A dangerous question, Inspector.”

_Stalling again._

“With an equally dangerous answer?”

Slowly, she nodded. She could see it, the connection between them laid bare and her fears, desires, and longing mirrored in those depths of blue, and she almost laughed. Of all the places to realise just how she felt about Jack Robinson….

“Phryne, darling, didn’t you say you’d been there once?”

She started, her surroundings brought back into sharp relief by the sound of Aunt Prudence’s voice from three places down, and she turned with a rueful smile. As always, impeccable timing….but she had to work hard to suppress the shiver of delight at the light touch of fingers on her thigh. Fingers that excited her and reassured her at the same time, even as she tried her best to make relatively normal conversation under Aunt P’s hawk-like gaze, and made her heart beat a little faster at the promise they held for later, and squeezed her hand when she had made it through the crème caramel and dinner was finally, mercifully over.

“Dance, Miss Fisher?”

Once again, his eyes captured hers and she nodded, drawn closer without meaning to be.

“You know a good waltz can make a person lose all reason, Inspector.”

“Then perhaps we should make it a tango?”

“No need”.

He raised one eyebrow and she smiled. She was willing to concede this round if it meant a rematch later. Preferably in her boudoir.

_Or at least in the parlour….if only to prove Guy wrong._

“I don’t have that much of it left anyway.”

 

 

 

 


End file.
